Guardian Angel
by FallenNephilim
Summary: Dean has never liked the concept of blind faith. Period. But now he has no other choice. Sam is dying, and despite everything Dean needs to believe in something he cannot see. Dean/Castiel
1. Faith

Dean had sort of hoped that his family would always be just that – a family, and that even when he and his brother Sam were older his parents would always be there for him; for both of them.

But sadly, fate was cruel.

His mother and father both died in a car accident when Dean was only fourteen and Sam was only ten, and since then they lived with their Uncle Bobby who was their only next of kin after their grandparents had both died when they were too young to remember. Life went on as normally as it could after that and Dean, seeing no reason for a college education, got his GED and got out of the school system fast, looking for work where he could, whereas Sam went on to go to law school and meet the girl of his dreams.

Dean could still clearly remember the day he'd been stuffed into a tight tuxedo and forced to stand with Sam by the altar as Jessica, in all her beauty, walked down the aisle toward him. And, despite how much Dean had complained, it had been the proudest day of his life to see his brother standing there, smiling so broadly.

And he could see how happy Jessica and Sam made each other.

Never, though, in all of his life would he thought that fate would be_ this_ cruel.

Dean sat in the waiting room of the hospital, his face pale as he wrung his hands worriedly. He'd always promised himself after their parents died that he'd protect Sam and be there for them, but he _hadn't_ been there; he'd been goofing off at some bar and Sam, worried because he wasn't answering his phone, had gone to find him.

That was when a drunk driver veered off the road and slammed into him head-on.

The doctors said it was a miracle for Sam to even be alive now, but he would not last much longer. It was hopeless. He was dying. There was nothing they could do. So Dean had stayed silent as Jessica, poor Jessica, simply collapsed by her husband's bedside and sobbed.

And Sam . . . well, he hadn't opened his eyes since the crash, and according to the doctors he would never open them again.

Restless from sitting in the waiting room, Dean stood and walked out of the hospital, feeling as if he was finally able to breathe without the weight of oppression that crushed in around him inside the building. The air outside was frigid with the promise of winter, and a light rain drizzled around him in sheets as water droplets caught in his hair, making him shudder when the chilly moisture hit his skin.

Unsure, hopeless, and fearing for his brother, Dean did the only thing he could think of.

He looked up to the sky, and though he felt stupid for doing this – because of all the things Dean Winchester was, religious was definitely not one of them – it was not the time for doubts. Sammy was running out of time.

"My brother is _dying!_" He shouted up to the heavens. "And I can't . . . I can't lose him! He's the only family I have left!" Tears gathered in his eyes, but he ignored them. "Please . . . I don't care who you are, just _help me!_"

Dean heard a sudden strange noise then, as the echo of his shout faded away; it was like the sound of wings on the wind. And then a hand on his shoulder made him jump and spin around, his eyes widening as he saw the man standing there.

And yet . . . he wasn't a man.

The newcomer's face, despite looking human, was as emotionless as a blank slate; unresponsive and almost cold, though there was mercy and warmth in his stare if you looked deep enough. Bright blue eyes peered out from under a mop of unruly dark brown hair, and he was dressed as if he'd just come from an office cubicle; the clothes seeming extremely out of place on him.

He looked innately human, and yet something about him was so off that Dean knew instantly he wasn't.

"Who are you?" Dean asked uncertainly.

The man - or whatever he was - tilted his head to the side and scrutinized Dean levelly. "My name is Castiel."

His voice was deep; almost gravelly. It was a tone most would describe as coarse and rough, but somehow Dean detected gentleness beneath it, something others would not see if they only skimmed the surface.

So, thrown off by his – _Castiel's_ – voice, Dean took a moment before replying, throwing back a harsh demand with it. "What are you, Castiel?"

"I am an angel of the Lord."

Dean blinked. "Yeah, and I'm the president of the United States."

Castiel's eyes darkened. "You do not believe me?"

"Hello, no. Why would I?"

"You forget that_ you're_ the one who called for help." Castiel pointed out.

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, but . . . I - I was –"

"- Expecting something else?" Castiel finished.

"I'm not really sure what I was expecting, truthfully." Dean admitted as he pulled himself from his memories. "I . . . I don't think I expected anything."

Castiel offered him an indulgent smile. "How can you pray for help without having faith in what you're praying to, Dean Winchester?"

_He knows my name._

"I suppose I'll have to give you proof, then." Castiel sighed, "I know you well enough to understand how stubborn your skeptic side can be."

Dean opened his mouth to snarl out a sarcastic and highly inappropriate retort, but the words died on his tongue as the streetlight above him flickered and nearly shattered, and a strange sound rumbled around him as the very ground shook beneath his feet. And then, just barely visible in the shadows he saw Castiel's true form, and the wings that spread from his back – dwarfing Dean with their size and strength – were nothing short of terrifying.

_It's true . . ._

Castiel smiled as the wind calmed and the light settled around him. "Do you believe now?"

Stubborn as always, Dean swallowed hard and ignored the question, instead proposing one of his own. "Can you heal my brother?"

"I can."

"What do you want in return?" Dean asked desperately, for he figured that something like this must come with a price attached, and with every second that ticked by he could feel his brother's life trickling through his fingers. "I'll do ianything./i"

Castiel looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"What's the price I have to pay for you to heal Sam?" Dean clarified, frustration bubbling up inside of him at the delay.

"There is no price."

Dean froze, completely taken aback. _"What?"_

Castiel smiled. "That's not how we work, Dean. You pray and we hear you. And, if it is God's will, your prayers are answered."

Dean swallowed hard, feeling stupid for what he was about to say. "So, is it . . . is it His will that you heal Sam?"

Castiel raised his chin in something that was almost akin to arrogance, seeming to grow a bit taller as the air crackled around him. "I will heal your brother."

Dean's mouth fell open. "Wait, you mean . . . just like that?"

Castiel seemed slightly annoyed by Dean's continued skepticism. "Yes, Dean. Just like that."

"But . . ."

"We must hurry." Castiel said urgently, cutting him off. "Your brother doesn't have much time left, and I'd rather not have to pull him back from the afterlife; it's much harder than simply healing him. So take me to him, and be _quick!_"

Bewildered and confused and sort of freaked out (which was an understatement, by the way), Dean re-entered the hospital with the angel in tow, despite how strange the very thought sounded to him, even in his own head. They got to Sam's room in record time, and Dean had to pause for a moment in the doorway, surprised that Jessica was no longer there.

"Where did she go?"

"Bathroom." Castiel said suddenly, "She left just seconds ago, but we don't have much time."

"How do you know that she's in the bathroom?"

Castiel gave him a scathing look that dared him to dispute his power, and Dean, for once, backed down. After all, his brother's life was hanging in the balance; he couldn't exactly afford to be sarcastic and skeptic right now, could he?

"Uh, how long will this take?" Dean asked, his voice sounding tight and strangled even to him as he looked down at the sight of Sam, so broken and bloodied, in the hospital bed with his neck in a cast and so many IVs connected to him. They'd had to put him on life support just to keep him alive while they did their tests, though they were sure to pull the plug soon enough.

_But Castiel will save him._

Dean believed this. He believed it with all his heart. In fact, he felt as if had to believe it, because if he didn't believe it then he would break; he would crumble into pieces with the realization that he'd lost everyone dear to him.

So he had to believe, or there would be no hope left for him.

"It won't take long." Castiel replied, stepping forward and placing his hands on Sam's chest.

Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting; maybe a flare of holy light or a burst of sparks, or at least some sort of reaction from Castiel, but when the angel merely stepped back just moments later and nothing felt different, Dean's heart skipped a beat as pure fear flooded into his gut.

_Did it work?_

And then suddenly Sam's eyes flickered open.

"Sammy!" Dean ran forward and grabbed his brother's shoulders, "Sam, you're alive!"

"H-hey, Dean." Sam smiled, looking confused and yet strangely happy. "Wh-what happened?"

"It's a long story." Dean gasped, overcome with joy and relief because his brother was okay. Sam was fine. In fact, he didn't have a scratch on him.

The door to the room opened just then and Jessica walked in, her face streaked with the remnants of her mascara as she wiped the tears that she'd been trying to hide off her face, but then she suddenly looked up and saw Sam and her eyes widened.

"S-Sam?"

Sam smiled. "Hey, babe."

And then Jessica was running over to him, collapsing in his arms and sobbing on his shoulder amidst teary professions of love and gratefulness for the miracle that had befallen them, and despite the cheesiness of it all, Dean couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face.

As relief calmed him, however, he suddenly remembered the reason Sam was sitting up in bed, talking and kissing his wife and joking as if nothing had happened.

It was because of Castiel, the _angel._

But when he turned to where the angel had been standing before, Castiel was nowhere to be seen; it was like he'd simply disappeared into thin air, and actually Dean wouldn't dispute the idea. It bugged him, though, because he hadn't gotten a proper chance to thank him. He did remember what Castiel had said earlier, though, about how when he prayed the angels would hear him.

So as they stood outside in the waiting room a few moments later, Dean watched an overjoyed Jessica checked Sam out of the hospital amidst cheers and well-wishes from the doctors gathered around whom – despite being completely baffled by the miracle of Sam's instant recovery – weren't questioning it, for there was no other explanation. It had been a miracle; plain and simple, and Dean thanked whoever was listening dearly for that, hoping that the one angel he was thinking of was listening.

_Thank you, Castiel . . . thank you so much._

X X X

A week after Sam's miraculous recovery, things were going great; everything was practically back to normal, and everyone had put the car accident behind them, simply reveling in the fact that Sam was there with them somehow, completely unscathed save for a few bruises and sore spots.

Because that was nothing compared to what could've been.

It was on that Sunday, however, that Dean showed up and Sam and Jessica's place, dressed in a suit he looked extremely uncomfortable in as he mumbled something about wanting to go to church with them that morning.

Sam was speechless. Jessica, however, literally cried out in joy and tackled him in a violent hug that almost had him toppling off his feet. Then, babbling excitedly about how happy she was and how good it was that they had gotten ready early that morning, she dragged Dean and Sam – who was still sort of frozen in shock – out to their car, and they were off.

During the entire ride there, though, Dean was mulling over his decision to go to church and wondering if it was a good idea. But, after witnessing an angel and – he grudgingly admitted – a miracle that could've been done by none other hand than that of God, he realized it'd be pretty hard to stay away in the end.

Also, besides realizing that his entire view on religion was changing, he also wanted to know what he was dealing with.

The church Jessica and Sam attended wasn't huge and extravagant; it was a nice little church a bit further out from the city limits, and it was one of those churches were everyone there knew each other and had known each other since they were kids, and yet they welcomed outsiders.

Dean was welcomed warmly and, as he took a seat beside Jessica and Sam in one of the front row pews, he decided that maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.

Though the sermon that day, ironically, was set in Revelations; discussing the angel's, their hierarchy, and what their purpose was. And Dean wondered disjointedly as the sermon ended and they were dismissed if Castiel and the other angels in Heaven were laughing at him.

He knew he probably would be.

"Quite the contrary."

Dean jumped, surprised by the familiar deep voice, and turned to see that Castiel was standing right there literally just a few feet from him; so close that the tip of his nose nearly brushed Dean's.

"Castiel . . ." Dean breathed.

"Hello, Dean."

Extremely conscious of his personal space, especially with the angel invading it so blatantly in public, Dean stepped back to put distance between them.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked, his mouth feeling a bit dry.

"We're not laughing at you, Dean." Castiel said, ignoring his question and instead addressing Dean's earlier thoughts. "In fact, we're rejoicing. To be able to see you in church; in worship . . . Dean, you have no idea what that means to us."

Dean's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Wow, Cas. I'm flattered." Dean said, surprising himself when his tone was devoid of sarcasm.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "What did you call me?"

Dean blinked. "Uh . . . Cas. I called you Cas. Sorry, it just sort of slipped out –"

"Never mind." Castiel cut him off sharply, looking a bit flustered. "I simply came to tell you that your idea of us laughing at you was a mistake. Now I must be off; farewell."

"Wait, Cas –!"

But Castiel was already gone, his departure accompanied by the almost inaudible sound of wings that only one listening closely could hear, and Dean was left feeling stupid and confused and altogether wistful – which was extremely unlike him.

"Dean!"

Dean turned to see Sam waving him over, grinning widely, and he sighed.

_Here we go._

"What's up, Sammy?"

Sam glanced over to where Dean had been standing with Castiel just moments before. "Who was that guy you were with? I've never seen him here before, and Jess says he was at the hospital the day I woke up."

"Oh, he's a friend." Dean said, making the lie up on the spot. "His name is Castiel, and he's somewhat of a bible freak. He prayed with me when you were in the hospital, and he's actually the reason I came today. He just wanted to see what I thought of the sermon and stuff."

_Well, it's sort of the truth . . ._

"Oh." Sam's face cleared and he smiled, "Okay."

After that Sam and Jessica left, wanting to get home so they could eat lunch, and Dean said he'd just get a cab back to his apartment; he didn't want to make Sam drive him all the way there.

But, as the two left, Dean had to wonder why he hadn't told his brother about Castiel and who – or more, _what_ – he really was.

_Because he'd never believe you._

Dean sighed.


	2. Sleep

During the rest of the week, Dean couldn't stop dreaming about the wings, wide blue eyes, dark hair, and deep voice of one certain angel who seemed to be haunting his every thought and footstep.

He figured he must be going insane.

X X X

Months passed.

Dean attended church regularly now, and he believed that he was probably the most surprised of this fact out of all of his bewildered friends and family. And yet, he found himself enjoying it suddenly, something that Sam and Jessica were incredibly happy about.

All the more proof that he was insane.

And yet, Dean still dreamed of Castiel, every single night he dreamed of him. But, he had not actually seen him since that day in the church, and though he really, really wanted to, he doubted Castiel would come down from Heaven just because Dean wanted to chat.

But Dean told himself that he didn't care, he _didn't_. And so the days passed normally, and Dean seemed perfectly happy, for years of perfecting a mask of calm had paid off. But in reality he was feeling unsure and insecure.

He wanted to see Castiel again, badly. But he didn't know why, and it was messing with his head to the point that his innocent dreams of the angel had turned to nightmares.

"Cas!" Dean cried out after one such nightmare, sitting up in bed and breathing hard for a moment as he strove to calm himself.

His body was soaked in sweat, as were his sheets, and Dean knew he would never get back to sleep anyway, so he got up and stumbled to the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face. It didn't really do much to make him feel better, though, for the room continued to tilt and spin around him and his head pounded with the last echoing vestiges of his nightmare.

Wondering if he looked as bad as he felt, Dean glanced at his reflection in the mirror, only to catch a glimpse of someone standing behind him.

Gasping, Dean spun around, his eyes widening as they came into contact with a pair of familiar blue irises, and then he was frozen in surprise, staring for what felt like forever at the figure in front of him before he was finally able to jolt himself awake and speak.

"_Cas?_"

The angel smiled tentatively, clearly unused to the expression. "Hello, Dean."

Dean heaved a sigh of relief, letting his tense body relax. "Don't do that please, Cas. You're going to give me a heart attack."

"My apologies."

Dean nodded as he grabbed a towel and dried himself off. "Is there a reason you're here, or did you just feel like dropping in on me randomly?"

"You're having nightmares."

It was a statement of fact, not a question.

"I can see it in your eyes." Castiel continued, answering Dean's unspoken question in a matter-of-fact way that reminded him so very much of Sam. "Are you alright, Dean?"

"I'm fine." Dean muttered.

"At least let me help." Castiel said.

"Help how?"

"I can heal you so the nightmares stop," Castiel said, "And then you'll be able to sleep again."

Dean almost said no, but something in him urged for the positive answer; after all, no harm in doing so, right? And he'd get some good nights' sleep out of it, too. That's always a bonus.

He kept telling himself those were the reasons he was agreeing to this, because it had absolutely nothing to do with how adorable Castiel looked all of a sudden, standing there with his blue eyes wide and trusting and a hopeful smile on his face.

"Fine." Dean growled out.

Castiel's expression softened and he reached out to place two fingers on Dean's forehead. There was a slight jolt, and then Dean felt as if a veil had been lifted from his vision, and suddenly he had the overwhelming urge to go to sleep.

"Good night, Dean." Castiel murmured softly, knowing that Dean would not acknowledge him, not when he was so deep under the Enochian charm that Castiel had cast over him. It was a bit unorthodox, but Dean deserved a good night's rest.

As the angel watched Dean collapse on the bed, though, he couldn't help the longing he suddenly felt; the pull of something in his chest. And, since he really had no reason to return to Heaven any time soon, he decided it couldn't hurt.

So, he slid into bed beside Dean, curling up to him. And though some part of him said this was a stupid idea, Castiel didn't really care at that moment, because Dean's presence was calming and he radiated warmth and it wasn't a big deal, right?

And besides, Dean wouldn't know anything until morning, but by then Castiel would already be gone.

X X X

Dean was trying to figure out why he was so warm; he never slept with the covers on because he got hot too easily, but this wasn't hot – not in the overwhelming sense, at least. No, it was warm and comforting; the kind of warmth that made you want to snuggle up on a cold day.

When the warmth beside him shifted, though, and grunted softly, Dean was awake in an instant, his instincts warning him that someone else was in the bed with him. When he flipped over, though, no word could've described how impossibly surprised he was to see Castiel there.

The angel was curled up beside him with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he looked so trusting – so _peaceful_ – that Dean was taken aback. He didn't even know that angels could sleep; he didn't think that they had to.

That wasn't the most pressing of the thousands of questions swirling around in his head, though. No, the question that most definitely stood out above all others in his head like a light in the darkness was obvious.

_Why was Castiel in his bed in the first place?_

Dean hesitated, trying to decide whether or not he should wake the angel, but in the end he figured he should; and maybe he could figure out what happened and why . . . why Castiel was in bed with him.

"Cas . . ." Dean reached over to shake his shoulder. "Cas, wake up."

Castiel groaned, his blue eyes flickering open as he propped himself up on one elbow blearily. His eyes were half-lidded and his hair stuck out in random places, something that Dean found remarkably adorable for some reason.

"Nnnh . . . uhn . . . Dean?" Castiel rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to focus on Dean. "What is . . . _where?_"

"Cas, why are you in my bed?"

Castiel was up suddenly and out of bed before Dean could react, backing up slowly as he watched Dean with wide, scared eyes.

"I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Castiel gasped, holding his hands up non-threateningly. "I just . . . it was so warm next to you, and I've never really slept like that before, and I wanted to know what it was like, but I shouldn't have –"

"Cas!" Dean cut him off as he got out of bed to stand in front of the angel. "Calm down, Cas. I'm not angry, really. I just wanted to know."

"Oh . . ." Castiel frowned, and Dean could've sworn he saw red tinting the angel's cheeks. "Well, I'm sorry."

"I don't mind." Dean said truthfully. "You're actually really warm, and besides, I slept better last night than I have in weeks."

Castiel's face cleared. "I'm glad."

"Yeah, me too. It's been too long since I got more than four hours of sleep at a time."

"Don't humans need at least eight a night?"

"Approximately, yeah."

Castiel frowned, "Is it because of the nightmares?"

Dean stayed silent, unsure how to answer. Should he tell Castiel that the nightmares were about him, and that in each one Dean got to watch Castiel die; over and over and over again? Dean wasn't sure he should because he had no idea what they signified, even though they were his nightmares.

But what if Castiel already knew that the nightmares were of him? After all, he'd known that Dean was having them without even asking.

Dean decided it was worth the risk to at least ask.

"Cas, Do you know what the nightmares are about?" He asked softly.

Castiel frowned, scrutinizing Dean curiously a moment before shaking his head 'no'. Relief made Dean's tense shoulders relax at this, but in a moment of insanity, he decided to just tell the angel.

"They're about you, Cas."

Castiel's eyes widened slightly. _"Me?"_

"Yes." Dean rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. "Every single one . . ."

Castiel seemed to sense that something was wrong. "Does something happen to me in them?"

"Yeah, you – uh, you die . . . repeatedly." Dean cringed as he said the last part and glanced at the angel before him, almost expecting Castiel to be angry.

"Dean," Castiel began, and for a moment Dean could've sworn he saw uncertainty in the angel's eyes – when normally they were so calm and cool and aloof. "If I stay here . . . with you, at least for a little while, do you think maybe the nightmares will stop?"

Dean blinked. "Maybe, yeah, but why would you stay?"

Castiel offered him a weak smile. "Because I want to."

Dean was a bit unsettled by that, but he tried not to let it show. "A-alright, then. It's worth a shot, I guess."

"Do you not mind that I stay here?"

"No, not at all." Dean smiled. "Would you mind sleeping on a couch?"

"I would not."

"Good. Then it's settled."

The two stared at each other a second longer, and then Dean cleared his throat and mumbled something about having to make breakfast as he escaped down the hall. Castiel watched him go for a moment before he sat down on the bed, staring down at the hands he had clasped in his lap.

_What is wrong with me?_

X X X

Dean plopped down at the table and shoveled a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth, munching on it thoughtfully and wondering about Castiel and the electricity that seemed to crackle between them every time the angel got too close.

Dean sighed, he really wasn't one for this sort of stuff.

He should call Sam.

_Yeah._

Sam's voicemail answered after ringing for nearly a whole minute, and Dean cursed his bad luck as he hung up and tried again. This time, thankfully, his brother picked up on the fourth ring.

_"Dean?"_

"Hey, Sammy."

_"Hi, uh, did you need something?"_

"Can't I just call to tell my brother hi?"

_"No."_ Sam deadpanned. _"Now come on, Dean. Stop beating around the bush and just ask me what you called me to ask."_

"Fine." Dean growled. "Look, I just, I don't know how to say this, though . . . there's so much you don't know and . . ."

_"Dean?"_

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes, that was Sam's _I'm-worried-about-you-Dean_ voice. Damn. That meant there was probably going to be some stupid chick flick moment popping up any minute now.

"Look, Sam. It's hard to explain. But there's this - iguy/i, yeah, it's a guy, and I don't know . . . I think I might -"

_"- Like him?"_ Sam finished.

Dean glared at the phone. "I don't know."

_"Yeah you do, I can hear it in your voice. You're just kidding yourself. And look, Dean, you know I'm okay with you being bi. I was when you told me a few years ago, and I still am."_

Dean let his shoulders slump in relief. "Okay, but –"

_"Look, Dean. If you like him, chances are, he likes you too. Why don't you just ask?"_

Dean spluttered. "I can't do that. Out of the question. Just no."

He tried to imagine himself going up to Castiel and asking something like that and nearly blanched. That was not ever going to happen.

_"Okay, then."_ Sam said sardonically, and Dean could practically see him rolling his eyes._ "How about you dance around for a while and try and figure it out without asking him, and then in the end we'll see how that works?"_

Despite the sarcasm, though, Dean actually figured that was his best option at the moment. Or his only one, anyway.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. Thanks, Sammy."

_"Dean, I didn't -"_

"Goodbye, Sam." Dean said as he shut the phone. He stared off into the distance for a second after he did, trying to decide how he should go about this, and in the end he just took another bite of his cereal.

Where was Castiel anyway? Was he still back in Dean's room?

Well, Dean had to admit, that felt a bit stalker-ish, but he was sure the angel would come join him eventually.


	3. Kiss

It took Dean a few moments to realize that yes, Castiel still hadn't emerged from the back, and yes, he was getting a bit worried. By that time he'd already finished eating, so he figured it wouldn't hurt to get up and go check.

The hall that led down to his room suddenly seemed ominous, and Dean paused a moment before the door that led to his room. It was cracked open slightly, and through the crack Dean could see Castiel sitting on his bed, head bowed and eyes closed.

"Cas?" Dean approached the angel warily. Was something wrong?

Castiel did not answer. He stayed perfectly still and inert, and it began to really worry Dean.

"Hey, Castiel." He tried again.

This time Castiel did respond; his head jerked up and his eyes, those beautifully stunning eyes, locked onto Dean's with a ferocity and fervor that Dean had never seen before. There was hunger in the angel's eyes.

"Cas, are you alright?"

The look was gone, then, and Dean was left to wonder in its wake as Castiel's expression faded back to the deadpan look he seemed to adopt when he was unsure.

"I am fine." The angel said shortly, getting to his feet. And though Dean stood a couple inches over him, still he felt as if Castiel was towering over him and dwarfing him in his shadow.

"I, uh, I was just a bit worried because you were still back here and all." Dean said lamely, trying to break the awkward silence.

Castiel offered him a sheepish sort of half-smile at this. "Forgive me, I was resting a moment."

"Oh." Dean felt stupid all of a sudden. "I see."

They stared at each other a moment longer and Dean could've sworn he saw that hungry look creep back into Castiel's eyes for a moment. The air between them grew tense and electrifying, and Dean suddenly felt the urge to step forward, to close the space between them.

Before he knew it they were just inches from each other, and then he was leaning down . . . down . . . down . . . and their lips were almost touching and –

"Dean." Castiel said softly.

The moment snapped, then, like a twig being broken by the weight of emotion that had sizzled the air just seconds earlier, and Dean stepped away from the angel as quickly as if they were opposing magnets.

"Sorry." Dean said. "I, uh, I'm going to go take a shower."

Castiel watched Dean go, waiting for the bathroom door to close behind him before he wandered out into the living room.

In truth, he had not just been resting while he'd sat back in Dean's room. No, of course not. He wasn't tired, he'd simply been thinking. Mulling over everything and wondering _why?_ - why had he stayed last night with Dean? Why had he offered to stay longer? Why did he feel as if the very universe held its breath whenever they got to close?

_Why?_

He still had no answer, though. But despite that, his suspicions had been confirmed. Whatever this feeling was, and whatever was between them, Dean felt it too.

So it wasn't just him.

So he wasn't insane.

Castiel wasn't sure whether or not he should feel relief or worry in the face of this fact. He knew that, while such relations weren't forbidden, they were frowned upon. He had already sort of overstepped his bounds already, though.

Why not step just a little bit further?

X X X

Dean scrubbed at his hair viciously, hoping it would wash the dirty and highly inappropriate thoughts from his mind. But no matter what he did he couldn't stop thinking on those stunningly blue eyes, and the way Castiel had looked at him in that moment.

How damningly close they'd been. Close enough that just mere _centimeters_ of air had kept their lips apart.

So why had he pulled away instead of surging forward like he wanted to?

Dean sighed and rinsed the shampoo from his hair, thinking back over everything and wondering if maybe Sam had a point. Maybe he should take his brother's advice and go up and ask Castiel face-to-face.

The scene Dean pictured in his head if he did that was extremely awkward, with both of them trying not to look each other in the eyes and lots of fumbling and fidgeting and stammered words and tripping over sentences.

Not an ideal situation.

But perhaps it was preferable to dancing around each other (like Sam would say.) Perhaps if he just confronted Castiel it would make everything easier. And perhaps getting a straight answer right now would be best for both of them.

So, with his mind made up, Dean got out of the shower and dried himself off as he pulled on his clothes, going over what he was going to say to the angel in his head. In all honesty, Dean had never really confessed to someone like this, so the idea of doing it now was, in a sense, nerve-wracking.

Still, his decision was resolute.

He was _going _to do this.

As he opened the door, however, to find Castiel standing right there, just inches from him yet again, he froze up.

"Cas . . ."

Castiel tilted his head. "Dean."

Another long moment of them simply staring at each other ensued, and the air began to grow thick and heavy as it always seemed to during these moments. And then it was as if something had passed between them and no words needed to be spoken.

Dean stepped forward, reaching out for the angel hesitantly, but Castiel moved forward of his own accord, and Dean took that positively; as a sign he could continue.

He let the one hand grab Castiel's shoulder, the other going down to wind around his waist, and then their bodies were crushed together, and electricity sparkled and sizzled around them as – slowly, ever so slowly – they both leaned forward, their lips meeting together in the middle.

And, when they pulled away, Castiel's eyes again held that fervent hunger from before.

"Dean . . ." The angel murmured, and Dean reflected on how simple it was for Castiel to portray an entire sentence with just those four letters.

"Yes?"

"I am not entirely certain about human emotions . . ." He said slowly, "What is this one called."

Dean smirked. "Cas, as cheesy and stupid as this is going to sound, I think it's called love."

"I would be inclined to agree." Castiel said, and then they were moving forward together, and the kiss was frantic this time; sloppy. Neither cared, though, just as they did not care when Dean fumbled a bit as he pulled off the ridiculous amount of layers Castiel was wearing, or when Castiel's hands slipped as he undid the belt on Dean's jeans.

No, they were too lost in their passion.

They could've cared less.

X X X

Dean woke up tangled in the sheets with Castiel snuggled up next to him. For a moment he was a bit worried, for after all he had just slept with an angelic being, but he figured if he hadn't been smitten yet then he was fine.

As the moment of slight panic passed, though, Dean allowed himself a smile as he watched Castiel lying beside him. The angel was obviously exhausted, because apparently they normally didn't need sleep unless they engaged in some sort of extremely strenuous physical activity.

Dean resisted the urge to smirk, _extremely strenuous indeed._

"Dean . . . ?" Castiel murmured, shifting as his eyes fluttered open.

"Hey." Dean smiled hesitantly. "How're you?"

"Good." Castiel said, and he sounded like he really meant it. He propped himself up on his elbow, offering Dean a lazy half-smile, and in that moment Dean felt truly and completely satisfied.

A sudden though occurred to him, then, and he laughed out loud.

"What?" Castiel asked, his brow furrowing.

Dean shook his head as he tried to subdue his mirth. "Cas, I just thought . . . no one's ever going to believe this?"

Castiel's unspoken question was written clearly on his face, and Dean smirked.

"I've been kissed by an angel." He said, only to burst out laughing once more.

And this time Castiel's smile was genuine.


End file.
